Not Handsome Enough to Tempt Me

In one minute, Marianne could shut down her computer and begin getting ready for the event of her life. The event she had been waiting years for. The event where she just knew that everything was going to change, because how could it not? Not Handsome Enough To Tempt Me had been in the works three years ago but something had always gone wrong. Weather conditions, venue cancellations, Covid. There seemed to always be an obstacle in the way of her happiness. And not just her happiness, she knew. But the happiness of every Jane Austen fanatic in the country. 5pm hit and Marianne shut down her computer. She practically leapt from her desk and threw open her closet and stared at the dress in front of her. She had it modeled after what Jennifer Ehle wore in the 1995 Pride and Prejudice British Television Series. The scene where Elizabeth dances with Mr. Darcy. And she was going to wear her hair the exact same way too. Oh! Finally. Marianne showered, dressed, did her hair and makeup with the precision of a heart surgeon, and stared at her official invitation.

We welcome you to the Willoughby Ball!

Arrive ready to enjoy the finest dining, dancing and the most tantalizing conversation you’ll ever have.

We cannot wait to receive you and tempt you with an extraordinarily fabulous time…will you be handsome enough to tempt us?

Marianne imagined a wide-open room, painted ceilings, decadent desserts and wines, and maybe, just maybe, meeting her very own Darcy.

Marianne arrived at 221^st West Bridgeton Place. She stepped off the carriage and thanked the driver. She knew it had been a bit much to travel by carriage (it had taken her an hour to get there as opposed to what could have been 30 minutes), but she wanted to have an authentic evening. She wanted to feel like she was inside her favorite novels. And that meant as little of the 21^st century technology as possible. She had even left her phone at home.

She gaped up at the mansion before her. It was perfection. When Marianne had seen that the location was in the Hollywood hills, she’d had her doubts. She knew that there were of course gorgeous houses there, but was there really a house good enough for the likes of Mr. Darcy? It seemed there was. The house looked like every palace featured in the Jane Austen movies. Large, wide, reeking of aristocratic wealth. Marianne hated the aristocracy. She hated the idea of obscene wealth. And here she was, all dressed up for the ball, hoping to meet an aristocrat herself. Or at least, someone who enjoyed the game as much as she did.

Marianne walked up the long path toward the house, impressed with the candles lighting the way, the butler awaiting her at the end.

“Welcome to the Willoughby ball, madam,” the butler said, “May I see your invitation, please?”

Marianne handed it over, beaming at the butler. His accent was perfect as far as she could tell. Posh and stuffy and slightly arrogant. Wonderful.

He bowed slightly and extended his arm, inviting her in and she held her breath as she entered.

She couldn’t help gasping as she crossed the threshold into the main hall. It was better than her fantasy. The hall was lined with tables of food, displayed in ways she had only seen in magazines. Goblets of wine glistened in the candlelight. Butlers lined the walls waiting for instructions, smiling their charming smirks the way she had watched a million times in every Austen film ever made.

And there they were. The guests. What looked like hundreds of women dressed in gowns and tuxes. Women smiling and laughing and drinking and talking and eyeing each other with glee, sharing their deep passion for the glorious Jane. Marianne beamed as she witnessed her most erotic fantasy coming to life. Women dressed up as Darcy. Darcy-Women everywhere. Women in waistcoats and top hats and riding crops and dark hair and-

“Hi, Marianne,” a voice from behind her said.

Marianne turned with a smile that immediately froze when she saw the speaker.

There in front of her was the last human being on earth she wanted to see.

The bane of her existence.

The woman who set her teeth on edge.

Lydia Grant.

Co-worker, competitor, arch nemesis.

Dressed in a way that made Marianne’s mouth water involuntarily.

“Marianne?” Lydia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hi!” Marianne said, wincing at her own volume, “What-what are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are, I guess,” Lydia said with a smirk.

“I didn’t know you were an Austen fan,” Marianne said.

“I’m not,” Lydia replied, “But it’s an easy place to get laid.”

Marianne choked on her own saliva and Lydia laughed.

“I’m joking,” Lydia said still laughing, “I love Austen.”

“Oh really?” Marianne asked, eyes narrowed, “What’s your favorite book?”

“Seriously, Stevens?”

Marianne grimaced. She hated that Lydia always addressed her by her last name. It was tacky.

“Yea, what’s your favorite, Grant?” Marianne persisted.

Lydia laughed again, “Persuasion. It’s the most mature and…I love that they get a second chance.”

Marianne didn’t respond. Persuasion was her favorite too.

“Well,” Marianne said after what felt like an awkward pause, “now that I know you’re a fan and not here to seduce a bunch of well-meaning Austen fans, I’m going to grab a drink.”

Lydia smiled, “Can I join you?”

Marianne hesitated.

True, Lydia looked damn good. She looked pretty much like Colin Firth, only slimmer. And with cheekbones like Cate Blanchett. It was overwhelming really.

But looks aside, Lydia was an asshole. They had been friends when they both started at the same company four years ago. Marianne had felt that they could have been more than friends. But that had changed when three months in, Lydia had taken credit for a proposal that Marianne had written. Now they barely spoke and when they did, Marianne found Lydia condescending, rude and a tad neurotic- constantly interrupting people on Zoom meetings and sucking up to the boss in a way that was almost embarrassing to watch.

“Um, nevermind I guess,” Lydia said looking away and blushing, “I’ll just see you around.”

“No, no,” Marianne said quickly, unable to be cold even to a person she deeply disliked, “Let’s grab a drink.”

“You sure?” Lydia asked.

Marianne nodded and the two of them walked toward a table where others were gathered and drinking.

Lydia poured them two glasses of wine.

Marianne sipped and couldn’t help releasing an audible, “Mmmm.”

Lydia laughed, “Like it?”

Marianne blushed and nodded, “You?” she asked.

Lydia shrugged, “A bit sweet for my taste…and obviously cheap. With the price of the tickets, they couldn’t splurge on some quality wine?”

Marianne fought the urge to roll her eyes. Typical, grumpy, whiny, Lydia. 

Marianne was about to take another sip when a body collided into her, nearly causing her to spill her wine.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said a woman who was also dressed in men’s attire.

Marianne gaped at the woman.

Brown hair, hazel eyes, tall, donning a top hat, a gold chain on the pant’s pocket that Marianne imagined connected to a fancy pocket watch, and a smile that could light up the darkest room.

“Did you get anything on you?” the woman asked, stepping closer to Marianne and touching her waist, causing Marianne’s heart to skip a beat.

“No…I’m fine, thanks,” Marianne croaked back, kicking herself for sounding like a pubescent teen.

Lydia cleared her throat and the woman turned to face her, eyes widening.

“Oh, hi Lydia,” she said.

Marianne looked between the two of them.

They just stared at each other. The woman obviously uncomfortable and Lydia shooting daggers.

“Do you two know each other?” Marianne asked, feeling like they clearly did but needing to break the silence.

Before the woman could answer Lydia abruptly said, “Excuse me,” and walked away.

The woman looked at Marianne and laughed, “Sorry about that. I guess Lydia didn’t want to chat…I’m Mariah. Mariah Miller.”

Marianne smiled and could actually feel heat spreading across her face.

“So, so,” she stammered out, trying desperately to sound like an adult again, “How do you know Lydia?”

“Oh,” Mariah responded, rolling her eyes, “We go waaayyy back. We used to date actually and then it all went south because well, I’m sure you know how Lydia can be.”

Marianne nodded conspiratorially. She knew.

“How do you know Lydia?” Mariah asked.

“We work together,” Marianne responded.

“Well, that must be fun,” Mariah said smirking.

Marianne laughed and shrugged, “So,” she said wanting to change the subject to a more pleasant focus, “Which Austen is your favorite?”

“Oh, Pride and Prejudice, of course!” Mariah exclaimed, “Kiera Knightly is so fucking hot.”

Marianne smiled, but inwardly winced. Anyone who immediately brought up the actors first, most likely hadn’t read the books.

Don’t be a snob, she told herself. She was here to have fun and mingle. Not be an Austen scholar.

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” Mariah said, leaning into Marianne.

Marianne laughed breathlessly.

Was this actually happening?

“You’re cute when you blush,” Mariah said with a smirk, running her finger down Mariane’s face.

“You’re…you’re cute too,” Marianne said, hoping the rasp in her voice sounded sexy and not like a teenage boy’s.

“Would you…would you like to take a walk outside? The courtyard looked beautiful,” Mariah whispered.

This moment felt more Bridgerton than Austen, but did Marianne care? She came here to have a good time. She was an adult. She was allowed some frivolity with a stranger, wasn’t she?

A live orchestra began to play in the main ballroom and the guests rushed over, eager to re-enact their favorite Austen dance scenes.

“Would you like to dance?” Marianne asked timidly.

Mariah smiled, “Of course. Let me just, ‘use the loo’ first.”

Marianne laughed and watched as Mariah wove through the crowd. Ok, maybe not exactly what Marianne was hoping to find, but that was ok. Mariah was hot as fu-

“Want to dance?”

Marianne tensed at the sound of Lydia’s voice but turned to her with a smile anyway.

“I’m actually waiting for…someone,” Marianne said.

“Mariah?” Lydia asked.

Marianne nodded.

“I’ll be surprised if she comes back. She’s probably doing coke in the bathroom,” Lydia said dryly.

“What is your problem?” Marianne snapped.

Lydia raised her brows and said, “Sorry. Didn’t know the two of you were so serious.”

Marianne shook her head, “You are so, so-

“Cute?” Lydia asked with a smile.

Marianne scoffed.

“She tell you how we know each other?” Lydia asked.

“Yes,” Marianne responded, “You dated?”

Lydia laughed, “That all she said?”

Marianne nodded.

“Wow,” Lydia continued, “Yes, we dated. Until I found her in bed with my niece. My 18-year-old niece.”

Marianne gasped, “You can’t be serious.”

“Gravely,” Lydia responded.

Marianne looked around, not seeing Mariah anywhere.

“I’m telling you,” Lydia said, “She’s doing coke in the bathroom.”

“Well, I-I need to use the bathroom, so…” Marianne stammered looking anywhere but at Lydia.

“Go, go to the bathroom,” Lydia said looking away too and Marianne couldn’t help but notice that Lydia also looked a bit sad.

Marianne paused, “You, ok?”

Lydia met her eyes, “Do you actually care?”

Marianne was taken aback by the question.

Lydia suddenly seemed so astonishingly vulnerable.

“Yea, I do care,” Marianne said.

Lydia sighed, “I did this thing only hoping to see you.”

“Wha…why?” Marianne asked incredulously.

“Why do you think?” Lydia responded.

Marianne’s chest felt like it was going to explode.

“I…I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” Marianne said in a rush, deciding it was best to avoid the situation for at least a little bit. Until she could process Lydia’s words.

She sped away before Lydia could say anything and bee-lined it to where she thought the bathroom was. She made her way around dancing couples, couples making-out, couples role playing line-for-line dialogue from various Austen novels. It should have been her dream come true, but it was turning into a nightmare. It was turning into the worst thing about Austen. The anxiety and the nervousness and having to deal with people like, well, like Darcy. Pompous and arrogant and complicated.

Marianne wondered for a moment if Lydia was her Darcy. It matched up relatively well. But…no. They were way too different and how could she date someone she found so incredibly annoying? Besides, Lydia was a thief.

Marianne walked into the bathroom (running water and flushing toilets thank goodness) and paused when she heard shrill laughter coming from inside.

“These fucking weirdos!” someone who sounded a lot like Mariah shrieked.

“I only came here to get some action. These Austen freaks Put. Out,” someone with a Lauren Bacall sounding voice responded.

Marianne peeked behind the archway to indeed see Mariah and a woman who was dressed as a sexy servant leaning against one of the sinks. The servant looked younger. Much younger. Marianne watched as Mariah took out the gold chain that was actually attached to some sort of bottle looking thing, opened it and took a sniff then passed it to the servant. Cocaine. 

“Ugh, and some of them are just so earnest about the whole thing,” Mariah continued, “This one bitch I spoke to, I swear, I think she thinks she’s actually Kiera Knightly or something. Like, jeez. Chill! I should’ve known she was going to be boring as fuck considering she knows Lydia.”

“Who?” the servant asked, still taking lines of coke.

“Nevermind,” Mariah said, grabbing the servant’s waist and pulling her into a kiss.

Marianne’s heart squeezed. She walked away before she could hear or see anything else.

She contemplated leaving early. The night was already bust and she didn’t think she had it in her to mingle anymore. She cursed herself for leaving her phone at home. The carriage wasn’t due back for another two hours which meant she either had to walk back to her apartment or deal with-

“So, you find her?” Lydia asked.

Marianne jumped, “How do you do that?”

“What?” Lydia responded.

“Surprise me all the time. It’s like you’re some sort of ninja,” Marianne said.

Lydia laughed, “Sorry.”

A song finished and everyone clapped.

The music began again, and Marianne sighed.

It was the song. The one from the 1995 series. The one where Elizabeth and Darcy dance for the first time.

“Come on,” Lydia said grabbing her hand.

Marianne started to protest but Lydia cut her off saying, “Shit, Marianne, I’m not going to bite you...unless you want me to."

Marianne choked on her saliva again and Lydia laughed, continuing to pull her onto the dance floor.

They stood, facing each other and Marianne was shocked to see that Lydia knew all the moves. They danced with the others, everyone knowing where to go next, everyone clearly obsessed with this particular dance and this particular piece of music.

“About the proposal,” Lydia began.

“The one you stole?” Marianne retorted.

“I didn’t,” Lydia said.

Marianne laughed humorlessly, “So then why did our boss think it was your idea?”

“She didn’t,” Lydia said.

“Huh?” Marianne asked, suddenly confused.

“Carmen didn’t…she didn’t think you could handle the project, so she gave it to me,” Lydia said, dancing with her eyes on the floor.

Marianne felt her stomach drop. “What?”

“Carmen didn’t think you were up for it. She thought you were too timid to take the lead, too…I don’t know what she thought. And I was too much of a coward to defend you so…yea,” Lydia finished in a rush, staring at Marianne with big eyes.

Marianne stayed silent and kept dancing. It was like her body had been waiting for this for so long that it refused to stop moving.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you forever, but I knew you hated me, and for good reason, and I know it doesn’t help that I…I you know I am the way I am. Interrupting on Zoom and sucking up to Carmen. I get so caught up…I wish we could go back to how we were. We…” Lydia petered off and stared at Marianne.

The music ended and Marianne stayed where she was, looking at Lydia.

“I’m sorry Marianne,” Lydia said, eyes watery.

“Why do you suck up to her?” Marianne asked.

Lydia shrugged, “I…She intimidates me. So…it’s sorta the only way I know how to be with her.”

Marianne looked away but nodded. She guessed she could understand that.

“I’m going to have to confront her now, you realize that, right?” Marianne said, “I can’t let this slide. I’m not timid, you know.”

Lydia smiled, “I know that. I should’ve told you sooner…but like I said. Coward.”

“Yea,” Marianne agreed with a smirk.

“I’ll be there with you,” Lydia continued. “If you want. I…There are some things I want to tell her too and I’d feel better if you were with me.”

“Yea…that’d make me feel better too,” Marianne said quietly.

They smiled at each other.

Marianne leaned in and raised her lips to Lydia who stepped back.

Marianne immediately blushed and stammered, “Sorry, I, I thought-

“No, it’s just,” Lydia stammered back.

Marianne waited.

“It’s just,” Lydia continued, “I want to…I want our first kiss to be us. You and me. Not…this. Is that ok?”

Marianne smiled and nodded, “Yea. That’s ok.”

“So…want to get another glass of that wine?” Lydia asked, putting out her arm.

Marianne took it and laughed, “Sure. Just don’t be a dick.”

“Dick isn’t a very Austen-like word, Stevens,” Lydia responded.

“Fine…don’t be a sullen and impertinent dick. How’s that, Grant?” Marianne asked.

Lydia laughed, “Touche.”

And they made their way back to the tables, hope in their hearts for the first time in a long time.

Just like Jane would’ve wanted.